


Inksolation 6

by notjustmom



Series: Inksolation [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:41:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 4,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26231338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: more BBC Sherlock stories...
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Inksolation [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810603
Comments: 434
Kudos: 70





	1. Strong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scrub456](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrub456/gifts).



“John.”

“Yeah.”

“You know that thing I said, last night, I think it was last night.”

“Which thing, you said a lot of things.”

Sherlock slowly untied his scarf and hung it up, then considered taking off his coat, but instead drifted over to the couch and pulling the coat tighter around himself dropped onto it, before considering his words, and beginning again.

“About how I was married to my work?”

“Ah. That.” John nodded as he hung up his coat. He turned and gazed at the fireplace for a moment and said, “I could build a fire -”

“Are you cold?”

“No, I just thought you might be.”

Sherlock shook his head. “Not cold.”

John looked at him oddly for a moment. Maybe shock was actually settling in finally? “Mind if I sit?”

Sherlock shook his head and wondered why he couldn’t just say what he wanted to say, what he needed to say. He let out a sigh of relief as John settled next to him on the couch and said nothing, just waited for him to make the first move. Slowly, he stretched out and rested his head against John’s thigh, then closed his eyes as his breath caught when he felt strong and steady fingers comb through his hair. “Better?” John asked quietly.

“Hmmm.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”


	2. Stealthy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This went a bit angsty on me...

Sherlock jumped slightly as John’s arms wrapped around him as he stood at the window.

“Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t.”

John snorted against his back.

“Okay, maybe a bit. Learn that stealthy bit in Afghanistan?”

“No.” 

Something in John’s voice made him turn in his arms and look down into his eyes. “John?”

“It’s just, my da - I learned to sneak into the house so I wouldn’t wake him - it was always better when he was asleep, than not.”

Sherlock studied the face he knew and loved so well, and knew there was nothing he could say or do, except hold onto him just a bit tighter, then lead him back to bed.


	3. Stubborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _That_ scene from ASiB... only slightly different.

“Sherlock?”

“Where’d she - where is SHE?”

“Who?”

“That woman - the you know -”

“Irene?” 

“Hmm.” Sherlock spun around the room then stopped. “Don’t feel good.”

“Back to bed.”

“I need to - there was something - I was supposed to, why is the floor tilting, John?”

“It’s not the floor, it’s you,” John said as he gently put him back to bed. “Let me know if you need me.”

“Yer supposed to be on a date.”

“Yeah, well. I’m not, am I?”

Sherlock blinked at him then reached out for his hand. “Would you stay, I mean, in here - with me, in case - dunno.”

“Yeah, course I’ll stay. Course.”


	4. Stupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after their first kiss...

“I have been rather stupid,” Sherlock muttered after he released a shattered breath and put a trembling finger to his own lips.

“No, you just didn’t observe,” John answered with a smile, then sat back down in his chair and went back to reading his paper.


	5. Fascinating

“Fascinating…” 

“What is?” 

“What?”

“You said, ‘fascinating’?”

“Did I?”

“Yep.”

“Oh. It’s just -”

John grinned then brushed that curl that never quite behaved no matter how much hair product Sherlock used behind his ear, kissed the crinkle between his eyebrows and sighed as Sherlock wrapped himself around him just a little tighter. “Love you, too.”


	6. Dull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Chapter 168 of wendymarlowe's Quarantine

“I’m sorry you were worried,” John whispered into Sherlock’s shoulder, then wrapped his arms around him as he felt him tremble.

“Wasn’t. Worried.”

“No?”

“Terrified is a better word, and at first, after our disagreement, hmm - after I was - I’m the one who’s sorry, John.”

John muttered, “Apologies are dull. I’m exhausted, mind if we just go to bed?”


	7. Purple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bit from ASiB...

“So, do you?” 

“Do I what?

“What she said yesterday, or whatever day that was -”

John lowered his paper and noted that the bruise on Sherlock’s jaw was nearly the colour of his purple shirt. “I shouldn’t have hit you at all.”

“It was for the case, I started it, and I asked you to.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“You’re not answering the question.”

“You haven’t really asked the question, have you?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, then cleared his throat and asked quietly, “Do you love me?”

“Yes. Obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“Of course, obviously. On our first case, our very first case -”

“You saved me.”

“Then that Chinese acrobat smuggling gang kidnapped me and I still didn’t move out. That’s either love or madness, maybe it’s both? I don’t know, but then I was willing to be blown up with you rather than live without you, Mr Consulting Detective. What does that tell you -” John’s words stopped short as Sherlock leaned in and kissed him, awkwardly, but with a sweetness that made him shiver. 

“Oh. So then the feeling is -”

“Quite mutual.”

“Then -”

“We’ve both been idiots.”

“Most people are, so I’ve been told, by a reliable source.”

“John.” John nodded, and without another word, pushed back from the table, got to his feet and offered Sherlock his hand.


	8. Urgent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> at some point probably after the pool scene, pre-Belgravia

There was nothing urgent needing their attention. No case on, John had taken a day off, and it was one of those hot, miserable days when you wished it would rain. No such luck. They considered getting up and cleaning a bit, the flat could always use a bit of picking up, but as the a/c shuddered to a halt and the power fizzled out with it, they decided against it, and went back to sleep.


	9. Irate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to the idiocy of the world as it stands today.

“Bloody hell!”

John dropped his mug and blinked over at him. “What?”

“Did you read? This, I mean, seriously. I know the majority of people on this planet are morons - but there are - there _are limits!_ ” Sherlock tossed the paper into the air, and wrapping his dressing gown tightly around himself, thundered out of the the room and into his bedroom. 

John sighed, and rubbed his face, quite certain he did not want to know what Sherlock was beyond irate about. Instead of walking over to pick up the paper, he quietly and efficiently disposed of the shards of mug and wiped up the tea from the floor, then took his time washing his hands as he considered what to do next.

“JOHN!”

“Coming.”


	10. Wrong

“Wrong.”

“What do you mean, ‘wrong’?”

“Incorrect, mistaken, erroneous, inaccu-”

Sherlock sighed, leaned back into his chair and asked evenly, “I do know what it means, John. What exactly am I wrong about?”

“It was Mrs. Peacock, in the Conservatory, with the wrench.”

“Well, that’s just ridic -” He sat up and leaned forward as John eased the cards out of the envelope and placed them on the table, one by one, in front of him.

“Mrs. Peacock. Conservatory. Wrench.”

“Stupid game.”

“Yes. Ready for bed, now?”

“Fine.”

John reached over and ruffled Sherlock’s curls. “Love you.”

“Yeah. Love you, too. But it is -”

“A rather stupid game, I know.”

“As long as we agree on that point.”

“We do. Bed.”

Sherlock nodded and stifling a yawn with one hand picked up the miniature wrench with the other, and studied it for a moment. “It is quite well done, isn’t it? Bed. Yes.”


	11. Sturdy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a bit of fluff...

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” John muttered as Sherlock leaned heavily against him and they slowly made their way up the stairs. How they didn’t trip he wasn’t sure, but eventually they made it through the doorway and he carefully eased Sherlock onto the couch, then turned away to make tea.

“John.”

He swiveled again to find Sherlock smiling at him. “Yeah?”

“Yer - what’s the word I’m looking for - sturdy. That, sturdier than you look.”

John snorted then moved closer and grinned at him. “Good thing, you are quite sturdy yourself. I’m just going to make tea, yeah?”

“Tea. Tea sounds...” His words faded as his eyes fluttered shut, and John breathed out a relieved sigh, knowing Sherlock would sleep for at least the next few hours. “Never taking you to the pub quiz again, even if we did clean the floor with the other teams.” He shook his head, and headed to the kitchen, hoping there were no surprises lurking in the fridge.


	12. Aimless

He had moments when he wished he could simply curl around John and tell him that before the day they met there had been very little point to his existence. John would probably interrupt, blushing slightly, mumble something about ‘the work’, then roll out of bed to start the kettle. There seemed to be an unspoken understanding - they didn’t really speak about such things. The past was tricky enough as it was, and besides, as John shuffled closer in his sleep, Sherlock suspected he knew the sentiment all too well.


	13. Stalwart

From the beginning, John was there, and for some reason Sherlock had never questioned it. Somehow it had felt natural to have this stalwart partner by his side, despite his usual mistrust of the general public. Early on, he had understood that John was unique; he seemed to accept, even appreciate the quirks that made most people shy away from him.

“What are you thinking about?”

Sherlock turned away from the fire and watched John ease into his chair. They were both a little older now, a little wiser, perhaps, but he knew if he managed to live another 50 years, still he wouldn’t unravel the mystery of John Watson to his satisfaction. Then again, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. “Hmm... the usual.”

John nodded, and picked up the paper he hadn’t finished reading that morning. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”


	14. Sharp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yet another return story...

He looked into the eyes he thought he would never seen again. The were older, yes, but they were still as bright and as sharp as they had always been. He started to diagnose the slight tremor in the arms that held him, then stopped himself, and asked quietly, “May I touch you?”

“Please.”

John sighed and closed his eyes again as Sherlock turned just enough so his lips pressed lightly against his wrist, and asked, “Are you here to stay?”

“I am, if there is room for me.”

John sat up and kissed him carefully, then pulled away and whispered, “Of course there is, of course.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him. “That’s it?”

“That’s it. I just have to close the clinic, and we can go home.”

“Home.”

John rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yes, home, and a shower, and -”

“Fish and chips.”

“Yes, and fish and chips.”


	15. Careful

From the moment he realised that John loved him, and that it was finally safe to confess his own longings, he understood how fragile the human heart truly is. From that moment, he swore to himself that he would take care never to break John’s heart.


	16. Diligent

Though he personally rarely ate until he remembered it was a human need in order to function, when John appeared in his orbit, or he found himself in John’s - he was quite diligent to make sure his - what was he exactly? Flat mate, medic, partner - whatever he was, Sherlock made sure he ate at regular intervals, and it gave him an excuse to sit across from him and learn as much as he could about his guiding light.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Here, you should have a bite, it’s really good.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes but picked up his spoon and dipped into the crème brûlée, and sighed happily as he slipped it into his mouth.

“Good, hmm?”

“Yes.” He opened his eyes and caught the look in John’s eyes, before he blushed slightly and turned away. “Yeah. It is, it’s all good, John.”


	17. Gorgeous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bit of fluffy angst

“Gorgeous,” John murmured against Sherlock’s shoulder.

“What is?” Sherlock asked uncertainly.

“You. I know you don’t think much of your transport, but you are, by far, the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

Sherlock rolled over and faced him, then bit his lip as he studied him carefully. “I - in school, I was always the odd duck. Too tall, too thin, too weird, ‘showed off’, then I stopped talking, thinking that might help, thought that might help me -”

“What?”

“There were days when I just wanted to disappear.”

John kissed his forehead, pulled him closer and whispered, “I’m so very glad you didn’t. I’m so so glad you are still here.”


	18. Magnificent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of ASiP, slightly AU....

There was something magnificent in that moment, when he knew for the first time in his life that it truly mattered that he existed.

“John?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes of course I am.” He nodded, then reached out to take Sherlock’s hand, and let out a sigh of relief as their fingers threaded together. “Of course I am.”

“Dinner?”

“Starving, but do you mind if we just go -”

“Home?”

"Please."


	19. Melancholy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In honor of RBG, March 15, 1933 - September 18, 2020

The music greeted him as he started up the steps, and he paused, then leaned against the wall for a moment and closed his eyes. He wasn’t angry or exasperated, no, the notes that floated down to him were melancholy, and he knew it would be a quiet night of take away and crap telly. He might never know what it was that put Sherlock into this contemplative state, but at least, John considered, as he resumed the slow climb to the flat, he was the one who was allowed to comfort him when he needed it.


	20. Thoughtful

He was a bit quieter, more thoughtful on his return, it seemed to John. No. He had always been thoughtful, at least when it came to himself. Few others saw that side unless they took the time to actually observe and think, which, as Sherlock always said, few people did.

These days, though, he rarely deduced a new person out loud, he was quick with an offer of tea, and would allow the client to tell their story of woe in complete and at times agonising detail. John shuddered silently with laughter as Sherlock closed the door on their latest love affair gone wrong case, until he saw the look on his face.

“Sherlock?”

“Hmm?”

“What is it?

“Nothing.”

John got to his feet and walked over to where Sherlock was standing, lost in thought, he supposed.

“I never truly apologised to you.”

“Sherlock -”

“No. I should have, could have found a way to stop - but I was arrogant. I thought I - I thought I was doing the right thing, but the moment - I was wrong. I should have told you.”

“Told me -”

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. “I should have told you that I loved you long before I ended up on the roof with him. It might have made a difference. Somehow.” He stifled a yawn, then blinked at John, as if surprised to see him still there.

John took Sherlock’s trembling hand and whispered, “You’re here now. That’s all that matters to me. Come on, let’s go to bed, and I’ll read to you from where we left off last night.”

“The princess book? With the giant and -”

“And Dread Pirate Roberts, yes.” John smiled at the sparkle in the ever-changing eyes and led him back to bed.


	21. Practical

As John found Sherlock’s keys in the sugar bowl for the second time in as many days, it struck him that his partner was the least practical person he’d ever met in his life. Yes, there was the sock index, and somehow his bedroom, now _their_ bedroom, he reminded himself, was as neat as a pin, but the rest of the flat? Chaos reigned, and yet, Sherlock could find anything in the stacks and boxes of bits and bobs after a moment’s recollection. Probably something to do with his Mind Palace which he spent infinitely more time organizing - a place for everything - 

“Everything has its place, John,” Sherlock whispered at his ear, and brushing a kiss over his shoulder where his robe had slipped off, gently took his keys from John’s fingers. “We’re out of milk, and bread, eggs, and oh, bleach. Best if you don’t look in the fridge for a bit.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” John answered back with a smirk. “Hurry back.”

Sherlock bit his lip and studied John’s profile for a long moment, before clearing his throat, “I can always go to the shops later...”

“Go. I’ll be here.” He sighed as he opened the cupboard and found Sherlock’s wallet. “You might need this?”

Sherlock grinned sheepishly at him, and nodded as John placed the wallet in his hand. “What would I do without you?”

“You’ll never have to find out.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”


	22. Pretty

“The other one, the other me - what’s he like?”

“Smarter than he looks.”

“Pretty damn smart then.”

“Pretty damn smart,” Sherlock mumbled against John’s shoulder.

“I ought to be, I do have quite a few degrees, after all.”

“Huh?” Sherlock sat up and rubbed his eyes, then blinked at him.

“Talking in your sleep again.”

“Sorry if I woke you.”

“Didn’t."

“Can’t sleep?”

John shook his head.

“Tell me?”

“Can’t.”

He considered apologising again, but knew that wouldn’t help, instead he leaned against the headboard and gently pulled John into his arms. He sighed as John’s fingers curled around his wrist as if he were checking, just making quite sure he was truly there, then he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.


	23. Noisy

Even as a small child, Sherlock had found solace in settling into the back seat of a London cab. He would close his eyes, pretending to doze off, but really he was listening to the city, learning its sounds and nuances, until he knew his home by ear alone. These days, it was the one place he found peace, he could be alone with his thoughts, noisy as they were -

“Where to?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

He expected some complaint from the cabbie, but there was none, the driver simply pulled into traffic and seemed to understand he wasn’t in the mood to chat. He settled back against the seat, but for once instead of closing his eyes, he studied the man who drove expertly through the city, though not in a rush, as if he had all day. Military haircut, not quite regulation, so former - he glanced at the dog tags that dangled from the rear view mirror and asked quietly, “Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“Sorry?”

“Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“Afghanistan.” The clipped tone told him to back off, but he was curious. Why was he curious? He met the cabbie’s eyes in the mirror and could see he was older than he had thought at first glance. Not a lifer. Volunteered. 

“Do you have a favorite coffee shop?”

The cabbie narrowed his eyes at him, but nodded, and drove him back to Baker Street. Sherlock let out a snort as he pulled up in front of Speedy’s, then turned off the cab and turned to face him. “I’m here every morning, 7 sharp, if you’d care to join me tomorrow?”

Sherlock felt himself blush, but offered him his hand. “Sherlock Holmes.”

“John Watson. See you tomorrow.” He shook his head at the notes Sherlock offered him and suggested, “You can buy me a proper breakfast in the morning instead, yeah?”

“Tomorrow, then.” Sherlock realized as he got out of the cab that for once his thoughts had quieted, and as he watched the cab pull into traffic again, he knew that in a few short hours his life was about to change for the better.


	24. Aggravating

It was aggravating how often Sherlock was right, making it all the sweeter on those rare occasions when John got it right. 

“I admit it. I was -”

“Say it.”

“John.”

“You were -”

“Wrong. I was wrong and you were right. Happy?”

“Ecstatic. Now can we please go get some breakfast, I’m starving.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes at him, but nodded before pressing a kiss to his forehead, and muttering, “I will just have to memorise the whole of the IMDB, so I won’t get caught wrong-footed again.”

John laughed, but knew Sherlock would do precisely that, probably starting at the breakfast table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaving it up to the reader's imagination what Sherlock was wrong about...


	25. Arrogant

People generally considered him arrogant about certain things, and he wouldn’t deny the fact. But, he had to admit he was a bit flummoxed when John confessed his love for him that rainy afternoon. He had been sitting in his chair, luckily, if he had been standing, he would have fallen over.

“Say that again?” He said slowly, as he looked into John’s face, trying to think his way through this moment, but faltering badly.

“I, John Watson, love you, Sherlock Holmes.”

“But -” His voice broke as John placed a steady hand on his face, and smiled down at him.

“Do you mind all that much?”

“Mind? No - I don’t - it’s not - hmm. I don’t mind at all, John. In fact, the thing is, I - I love you too -”

“But?”

Sherlock shook his head. “No buts, it’s just a remarkable thing. You - I mean - sorry. You are remarkable and to think -” John leaned in closer and kissed him then, ending any conversation for the rest of the afternoon.


	26. Gleeful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a day late... just means you'll get two today. ;)

The moment he took Sherlock’s hand in his and carefully pushed the ring onto his finger, then looked up into his eyes, he understood that he finally knew what it meant to be ridiculously happy. Gleeful, in fact - not a word he ever thought he would use to describe himself, but there it was. He was also relieved that they were nearly done - all that was left to do was - he heard himself sigh as Sherlock gently touched his chin, then kissed him in a way he had never been kissed before. Nothing overwhelming or showy, but just a simple press of his lips against his, which promised him so much more later.


	27. Good

“You are a good person, Sherlock, whether you like to admit it or not.”

Sherlock nearly dropped his mug of tea, but held onto it and glared at him from across the breakfast table. “Whose definition of good are we using in this scenario?”

John lowered the paper, then folded it neatly and put it aside. “I know it’s easier - well, more comfortable for you to act like you don’t care about people in a general sense, but you do -”

“What evidence leads you to that conclusion?”

“Mrs Hudson - you could afford to live anywhere, and yet you choose to live here; the clients who can’t afford you, you take on their cases regardless, and myself -”

Sherlock shifted in his chair, as if about to get up and flee the room, but stilled as John reached over and touched his hand. “No one else saw me, no one sees me as you do.”

“John. You do understand I don’t consider you ‘people’, and as for Mrs Hudson - she, well - she has been there when there was no one else - she will still be here, even when you’ve gone. And as for the clients, it’s the work, John. I don’t do it for money -”

“Who says I’m going anywhere?” John asked quietly as he got up from the table and moved to stand in front of him.

“You will, of course you will, everyone leaves, eventually.” He blinked up at him and tried to turn away from the gaze in John’s eyes.

“Don’t you know why I stay?”

“I have narrowed it down to twelve reasons.”

“There’s just one.”

“John.”

“I know I’m shit at this kind of thing, but -”

“Sentiment, John?” Sherlock asked in a whisper as he searched John’s face.

“Sentiment, Sherlock.”


	28. Graceful

At times, he was all angles, and sharpness, but at the moment, John considered, he had become graceful in his movements as he stepped over to the window and began to serenade the last light of the day. He set his unread novel aside, settled into his chair and closed his eyes as the music washed over him.


	29. Strange

If he had met Sherlock at any other time in his life - no. As he made his way back to his bedsit, he knew he never would have met him at any other point in his life. It wouldn’t have happened in that way, at least. But circumstances and, well, perhaps, something more than coincidence had nudged him in the direction of the strange man that he had just met. 

Perhaps he was mad to consider the offer - what did he know about the man who had read him so easily, except he was bright, yes, alright, brilliant, and perhaps the most attractive person he’d ever seen in his life. 

Beyond that? He sighed as he put his key in the lock and opened the door, then collapsed onto his very single bed and stared at the ceiling. What do you have to lose? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.


	30. Rosy

John sighed against his lips, then pulled away just enough to watch Sherlock’s cheeks flush a soft rosy colour. “You are so very lovely.”

Sherlock blinked at him, and reached over to brush away the single tear that had slipped down his face. “John?”

“Sorry. I just didn’t think, I mean - I had hoped - no, I didn’t even dare to hope that you might -”

“Love you?” Sherlock asked quietly.

“That. Yes.”

“As ever, John, you see, but you do not observe.”

John snorted, took him by the hand and as he led him up the seventeen steps, tried to remember how to breathe.


End file.
